Susan tried not to think of the blood that might have been spilt, but for the courage of a horse and his boy -- the horror of what had come to pass was enough without dwelling on might-have-beens -- but, try as she might, she could not put Rabadash from her mind.

When first he courted her, the Calormene prince had won her heart through poetry, astonishing her with his insight into her soul as he compared her not to the glory of jewels or the delicate beauty of wildflowers, but rather to the parts of Narnia she loved most dearly:

Thy touch like needled pine boughs dancing 'cross my gloveless hand,
Thy bearing fierce and regal as the hawk upon the wind,
Thy silence filled with meaning as wise field-mice fill the glen, 
Thy spirit curling gentle as a wolf within her den --

Were I before you now, instead of halting written words
Struck mute with longing as the midnight sky yearns for the birds,
Then I might wish for sparrow's wings or lilting thrush's song
I might desire to be the wind, or to the woods belong --

And yet. Yet if, oh gracious queen, one precious wish had I
For treasure deeper than the sea and broader than the sky
And dearer than the woods, and even stronger than the stone,
Then humbly I would thus entreat you: grant to me alone
The radiant southern sun that gently shines within your eyes
And tell me that your love, once given, like a raven flies.


Even now, she admired the words (even too late seeing the subtle mind behind them), but she too could twist their meaning: 

Where once my Raven's heart had flown too reckless, swift and true, 
Now wary, watches from the shadows -- all for love of you.